BX 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ~ 



I [FORCE COLLECTION.] ^ 

^ L*^ ^ 

f UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, f 



M Tofce fi'0ni tfft €>ttm: 
SEEMON, 

DELIVERED IN THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES, 

SUNDAY, JULY 31, 1842, 
TO THE MEMORY OF 



REV. GEORGE G. COOKMAN, 



BY JOHN NEWLAND MAFFITT, 



WASHINGTONi 

PRINTED BY PBTER FORCE, 

1842. 



Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1842, 
By Mrs. Mary Cookman, 
la tho Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Columbia, 



AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED TO 



RS MARY COOKMAN, 



BY JOHN NEWLAND MAFFITT. 



SEEMON 



Write, blessed are the dead which die in the lord from henceforth i tEA, 

SAITH the spirit, THAT THEY MAY REST FROM THEIR LABORS ; AND THEIR WORKS DO 

FOLLOW THEM. REV", xiv : 13. 

The ocean and the land are the wide theatres of human 
action. They both^ in their external features so essen- 
tially diverse^ bear the impress of the same Almighty 
hand. They obey different laws^ yet both are eloquent 
of God their maker — are obedient to his will^ and monu- 
ments of his creating and preserving power. 

The onC; in calm^ is an unruffled mirror spreading its 
wide bosom to gleam in the sunbeams^ to reflect the moon 
and stars^ and the w^hite feathery clouds of the summer 
or autumnal atmosphere; the other hath its mountains 
lifted in solitary grandeur into the region of clouds and 
the misty ^^breio of the storm.^^ With ribs of iron and 
peaks of adamant^ these mountain ranges assume the form 
of immense chains^ girding half a continent in their titan- 
tic embrace^ controlhng cHmate and winds^ stern dictators 
of heat and cold^ the sources of the ancient rivers^ and 
the inexhaustible kingdom of the gems and metals. At 
their broad bases^ repose the cities and nations of the 
earth. From their glacier summits^ the seas and oceans 
can be descried in the far distance^ like molten lakes of 
silver. 

In storm^ the ocean hath its mountains. The glass of 
the great mirror breaks up^ and a voice swells from its 



6 



A VOICE FROM 



imfathomable and sunless caverns^ unlike and more terri- 
ble than the sounds of earth— deeper than the mountain 
roar^ and wilder than the cry of torture from the tem- 
pest-torn forests. ^^The voice of many waters'^ stuns 
nature to breathless silence. When the frantic winds 
lash the wide seas into foam^ then the bellowings of the 
deep would silence the mighty thunderings of the storm^ 
or the cannon roar of battle. 

The land hath its devastating storms — -its deluges—its 
tornadoes — and its still more fearful earthquakes. 

How happy for man^ that the footsteps of God are 
both upon the land and the sea ! The arms of His pro- 
vidence are wide enough to hold both in secure embrace. 

Were I to take the wings of the morning and dwell in the 
uttermost parts of the sea^ even there shall Thy hand lead 
me.'' 

Danger dwells in the amplitude of the great sea. Its 
majesty compensates not for its fatality. Man rarely com- 
mits himself to its troubled bosom without a longing^ 
lingering look behind— an affectionate and tearful good- 
night to his native land; as it melts into^ and fades away 
in the blue distance. 

It is most remarkable that in the Revelator's description 
of the new heaven and the new earthy he uses these em- 
phatic words : ^^And there was no more sea.^' In the new 
earth; this element of grandeur and terror will no more 
be found. Its void will be suppHed by the pure river of 
water of life, clear as crystal proceeding out of the throne 
of God and the Lamb. 

There will be no more ocean in a world where there 
shall be no more curse 

Why have I thus descanted on the phenomena of ocean 
and of land ? It is but putting the back ground to a 
moral picture^ and arranging the elemental theatre on 



THE OCEAN. 



7 



which the lamented Cookman^ the chief subject of my 
themCj made his entrance^ and^ alas^ his exit ! 

Rev. George Grimston Cookman, was born in Hull^ 
England^ in the year 1800, He was eldest of eight chil- 
dren, seven of whom were sons ; and of all^ two only now 
remain to mourn over the fate of their elder brother. His 
reverend father, still living, is one of the local clergymen 
of the Great Wesleyan Churchy in the faith of which he 
educated the subject of my discourse. 

His earliest indications of genius were exhibited in 
public addresses, principally on Sabbath school and kin- 
dred occasions, in which his ardor, and the depth of his 
feeling, awakened a strange interest in the minds of his 
auditors, and many were the prophecies among his ac- 
quaintances that he would rise to future eminence in 
some public capacity. 

When he was eighteen years of age, the death of a 
friend solemnized his buoyant spirit, and his religious im- 
pressions settled down into the newness of the Christian 
life, and high spiritual enjoyment. 

He immediately connected himself w^ith the Wesleyan 
Methodist Church, and walked in purity and holiness 
within the prescribed limits of its rules^ to the time of his 
death. 

Born and educated in the midst of religious revolu- 
tion, when the latter day Gospel trumpets were summon- 
ing Christianity to the great missionary enterprise, it is 
not wonderful, that the ardent and high-minded Cook- 
man was deeply imbued with the missionary spirit. 

In one of his published speeches I find a remarkable 
narration, which would almost point out the spot and the 
hour when he received a baptism for the holy work of 
the ministry. 

On a bright and beautiful summer evening in 1821, 



8 



A VOICE FROM 



three young gentlemen stood on the tomb of Wesley's fa- 
ther in Epworth church-yard. The venerable piles of the 
parish church rose above their^^heads/'and at a little dis- 
tance was the site of the parsonage in Which Wesley was 
born. In this hour of hallowed inspiration^ one of the 
three solemnly exclaimed^ May the spirit of Wesley de- 
send upon us.^' 

In a few months each of these young gentlemen were 
preachers of the everlasting Gospel ; one in England^ one 
in Canada : the other was Cookman. 

In this same year^ 1821^ young Cookman first crossed 
the Atlantic on mercantile business, in which he was con- 
nected with his father^ and here^ in the field of his future 
labors and triumphs^ in the city of Schenectady^ New- 
York^ he received that Spirit-call,to the ministry^ which 
none who hear and disobey can hope for prosperity and 
contentment in other pursuits. He returned to England^ 
became a local preacher^ and still continued fettered with 
his mercantile pursuits for four years. His ardent mind 
was not satisfied with his position ; the cares of earth 
corroded the brilliancy of his affections^ and he pined in 
confinement and restraint of trade^ as one exiled from a 
loved native clime. His father saw and felt his mental 
sufferings^ and was the first to say^ George^ you must 
go." Furnishing him with means of support^ and an ex- 
cellent library^ the venerable father took leave of his son^ 
who reached the city of Philadelphia in the year 1825, 
The next year he became a member of the Philadelphia 
Conference of the Methodist Episcopal Churchy and the 
year following^ 1827^ returned to England^ and was uni- 
ted in marriage to the amiable and affectionate lady who 
still survives him. Miss Mary Barton, of Doncaster, in 
Yorkshire. In a little more than a month after this pro- 
pitious era in his life, he was walking the streets of Phila- 



THE OCEAN, 



9 



delphia^ with the chosen of his heart upon his arm^ and 
the wide fields of the American ministry^ already white 
unto HARVEST ALL AROUND HIM. I briefly sketch 
his stations of labor. In 1827^ Lancaster^ Pennsylva- 
nia; 1828; New-Brunswick; New- Jersey ; 1829. Eastern 
Shore of Maryland; 1830 and 1831; the city of Phila- 
delphia; 1832; Newark; New-Jersey. In 1834; he was 
transferred to the Baltimore Conference; and appointed to 
the city. His next station was in Carlisle; Pennsylvania ; 
and his next the city of Washington; in which; and in 
Alexandria adjacent; he spent the remainder of his earthly 
labors. 

He was twice elected to the chaplaincy of the Con- 
gress of the United States. The echoes of his loved 
voice still seem to hnger amidst these columns; and I 
sometimes start; as if the drowsy reverberations w^ere 
bringing them back again in the fresh vigor of their 
power ! 

What was the character of his mind; the style of his 
eloquence; the secret of his ministerial success ? 

In answer; the departed and lamented Cookman will 
speak for himself. Enough of his brief memorials re- 
main to supply the tests of the analysis of his mind; far 
better than those wordy panegyrics where the writer or 
speaker; in showing up the virtues of the dead; would seem 
more intent on self-emblazonry ; dressing the banks of a 
rivulet of tears with gaudy and flaunting flowers of lan- 
guage ! 

His anniversary speeches before the various religious 
associations and societies of benevolence show^ his cha- 
racter; and from them shall I seek proofs of all I say of 
him; as a man^ a Christian y and an orator for God ! 

I mourn him, but I praise him not. To God the pra ise 
be given! 
2 



10 



A VOICE FROM 



He was a man of movement^ a spirit of energy 

AND ACTIONe 

"Let us^" said he^ "like the soldiers of Oliver Crom- 
Wellj read our Bible and pray twice a day in each of the 
tentSe And now^ let us to the field of action. May the 
God of battles give the victory^ and the trembling gates 
of hell shall shake to their centre,'^ 

He said, at one time, " I see the lofty bulwarks of Pa- 
ganism, flanked by the batteries of Heathen philosophy^ 
and entrenched by the prejudices of four thousand years; 
and I see beneath the simple Apostle, a solitary man, in- 
deed, but not a man of worldly calculation; no, sir ! a man 
of faith ! and he calmly moves on to the attack, bearing 
in his hand the conductor or lightning-rod of Divine truth ; 
he points it against the rampart, and lifting up his voice^ 
he cries J Help^ God of Israel^ help! and God answers by 
fire ; the lightnings flash, and the whole bulwark is dashed 
to a thousand pieces,'' 

" The cry of the Christian missionary^'^ said he, " is 
onward! Like the great Athenian commander, he burns 
the ships behind him, he draws the sword, and throws 
away the scabbard, and inscribing on his banners ^ victory 
or death,' he rushes into the breach, and victoriously scales 
the loftiest battlement of the enemy's strong hold !" 

This action- — military energy— the forward charge^ and 
the huzza of a conflict^ were traits in Cookman's mind, 
strong and fully developed. I have sustained them from 
his own heait ideal of Christian character. 

His powers of perception and comparison 
greatly exceeded his powers of imagination. 

The imagination travels into unknown worlds, or be- 
comes the creator of new worlds, whence she brings her 
fused gold^ melted down in the volcanic crucible of in- 



THE OCEAN. 



11 



vention^ and her pearly silver^ fretted with fancy's frost 
work. Perception and comparison discover the real ima- 
gery of the world about us^ and apply their points of 
coincidence with the corresponding ones of moral or 
rehgious movement. Not one of Cookman's figures of 
speech^ or comparisons^ in which he so much delighted^ 
were ever brought from the unreal world. His art lay 
in selecting the well known and real to illustrate the theo- 
retical^ the moral, and the intangible, 

Thus^ when he saw^ by his powers of perception, all 
the churches and religious denominations of Christen- 
dom united in the great work of disseminating the scrip- 
tures, his powers of comparison successfully seized upon 
the strong figure of the military organization of an army, 
prepared for battle. 

On another eminent occasion he compared Methodism 
to a ship built at the Foundry, city of London, under the 
direction of Messrs. John and Charles Wesley. A mis- 
sionary vessel carrying letters of marque— not a mere 
coaster, but destined to circumnavigate the globe — and 
Coke and ^sherry admirals of the ship. 

He compared the cold and low state of religion in the 
English church one hundred years ago, to flickering em- 
bers of an expiring fire in an ancient cathedral, with lofty 
isles and vaulted roof. The brisk sprightly Wesley enters 
and begins to stir up the fire ; Fletcher approaches with 
an armful of faggots, and throws them on the brightening 
flame. With eager steps the bluff" and portly Whitefield 
comes, and he begins to blow, and the flame kindles, tow- 
ers, warms, and illumes the whole church. 

Thus, by his own evidence, his comparisons, in which 
he so much abounded, came not from the realms of the 
magination, but from sober scenes of reality, in which 
fancy or fiction had no part. 



12 



A VOICE FROM 



He had all the devotion of the missionary en- 
terprise DEEP PLANTED IN HIS HEART OF HEARTS. 

Hear him : " What were the old apostles bat heads of 
a missionary college ? Themselves graduates under Jesus 
Christy the great Teacher of the church. Heaven-taught^ 
Heaven inspired men ! They were hnguists without a 
lexicon^ and preachers without a book. They had the 
thoughts that breathe^ and the words that burn. These 
were missionaries of the right stamp. Men full of the 
Holy Ghost, Hearts of flesh — decision of steel — souls 
of fire." 

His mind was as free from bigotry as the gush- 
ing SUNBURSTS OF HeAVEN, 

In his military figure of the sacramental Host^ he repre- 
sents bigotry as an old^ wicked^ withered^ and decrepid 
spy; and warns each department of the army against his 
wiles. He gives it in charge to the cavalry, to cut him off ; 
he gives him to the bayonets of the infantry^ to drowning 
by the lake and river guards^ and his wizzard body to 
burial by the Quakers^ in deep and solemn silence. 

His heart was too big for the narrow inclosures of sec- 
tarianism. He was too warm and ardent a lover of human 
nature to love it only under one of the many religious 
phases of the world. Every servant of his Divine Mas- 
ter was his brother^ let his garb be what it mighty and hi^ 
formulas of worship expressed in however different 
words. He was of those who breathe free in the nobili- 
ty of their generous feelings— men for whom the coun- 
cils of the inquisition could have no use, except for vic- 
tims—and the wrath of such would have been borne with 
the sternness and endurance of a nature that knew its 
rights^ and knowing would maintain." 



THE OCEAJSr, 



13 



His mind was more affiliated with the stir- 
ring^ STERN^ heroic IN ACTION^ AND WITH THE FORCI- 
BLE^ SUBLIME AND GRAND IN NATURE^ THAN WITH THE 
SOFTj TENDER AND BEAUTIFUL. 

This is known by his attachment to figures of miHtary 
movement^ and to those of strength^ boldness^ or terrible 
in nature. In this spirit^ he says of the lone and stern 
men of the woods : I love the Indian character in its 
original and unadulterated grandeur; it is the noblest form 
of the natural man on the face of the earth. The Indian 
is cast in the very poetry of nature. Strong and impe- 
tuous he is as the cataract that thunders down Niagara ; 
free as the mountain eagle that screams above his native 
rocks^ or as the deer that range through his measureless 
forests." 

By a singular coincidence with the scenery of the ele- 
ment on which he went out to return no morC; he was 
most happy in descriptions of stormy and in sea sketches. 
Most admirable and graphic was he in a favorite sermon 
on the passage of Israel through the disparted waves of 
the Red sea. Speaking of this characteristic of his genius^ 
an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United 
States used these words : From the ocean he drew 
much of his richest imagery." A Senator^ distinguish- 
ed for his eloquence, and who was himself fond of 
illustrations from the same source, after hearing Mr. 
Cookman, observed : He has discouraged me in the use 
of my happiest figures. There is such a richness, beau- 
ty, and force in his illustrations from the ocean, so far sur- 
passing my reach that I know not that I shall ever at- 
tempt to use them again." 

He was firm and unchangeable in his affec-^ 

TIONSc' 



A VOICE FROM 



Of this assertion, I have the concurrent testimony of 
hundreds of Hving witnesses. He is gone — dead — beyond 
the influence of either praise or blame from man ; and yet 
it is most astonishing how Hving and fresh is the affec- 
tion now cherished for his memory, his fame, and all 
that concerns him, in the metropolitan, and other cities 
of our land. Such affection, by a law of our nature, 
could have been called into action only by a correspond- 
ing affection in him. Love ever begets love. 

With a heart bursting with emotion, he thus gave ut- 
terance, on a public occasion, to the strength and dura- 
bility of his affection, towards the amiable and sainted 
Doctor Samuel Baker, of Baltimore. " May my poor 
heart pay this last tribute of fond affection to the memory 
of him who was the first friend I made in this city; 
whose hospitable roof w^as the first home I found, and in 
whose society I have spent many a precious hour. The 
ornament of his profession, a burning and shining light, 
a pillar in God's house, he wiped away the orphan's 
falling tear, and comforted the widow's broken heart." 

As A MUNTSTER OF THE EVERLASTING GoD, HE WAS 
ACCESSIBLE IN HIS INTERCOURSE WITH ALL CLASSES OF 
PEOPLE, ARDENT IN HIS CHRISTIAN TEMPERAMENT, 
SINCERE, GRAPHIC AND POWERFUL IN HIS PULPIT ELO- 
QUENCE. 

In person Mr. Cookman was slender, and about the 
medium height, without any remarkable, or strikingly ex- 
pressive features. His forehead was not expansive, nor 
his head large, yet his eye was penetrating, and his mouth 
delicately chiseled, showed the outlines of acuteness and 
decision. This unobtrusive style of person and features 
is frequently no small advantage to the minister who 
would keep himself behind his subject, and hide from 
gight in the magnitude and interest of this theme. 



THE OCEAN. 



15 



His nervous and active mind perpetually stirred him 
to action. Spending the morning hour^ when attached 
to Congress, in prayer and religious conversation with 
distinguished senators, the next hour would find him in 
some of the homes of want and sickness, in the outskirts 
of the metropolis; and such was the life and interest 
which his clear views and vigorous style of conversation 
imparted, that no one ever became tired of his compa- 
ny. Every parting with him gave birth to an intense 
wish for another meeting, as if something had been left 
unsaid, or some chord of sympathy, touched by his hand, 
would again vibrate into tuneful thought, under the mas- 
tery of his mind. 

If ever a minister of Jesus in this metropolis made the 
great end of both conversation and preaching the advance- 
ment of practical religion, that man was Cookman. 

He needs no mural monument at the Capitol, rising into 
the blue heavens, and glittering with the tears of ocean, 
to perpetuate his name, while thousands of living monu- 
ments to his worth and piety walk these avenues and 
cherish his image among the household gods of me- 
mory ! 

The churches of the city of Washington and Alexan- 
dria, and indeed wherever he was stationed, under his 
ministrations flourished in moral verdure. Religion and 
benevolent effort went hand in hand. Christian character 
became elevated as ^^the noblest style of man.^' The 
salt of Divine Grace was cast into the highest fountains 
of social life, as well as the lowest, and the image of re- 
ligion, amidst the statues in the Capitol, dedicated to honor 
and patriotism, was not nameless like that in the Athe- 
nian Capitol dedicated to " the unknown God.^^ 

In his training for the pulpit, and the great work of Di- 
vinity, in which he jspent his brief life, he illustrates hi^ 



16 



A VOICE FROM 



own views of ministerial and missionary qualifications^ as 
he expressed them on public occasions. The minister 
which his graphic pencil sketched bore the strong like- 
ness of a man of God : He was the trumpet of the Lord 
to the nations — a lion's heart — an eagle's wing — a ser- 
pent's wisdom — a practical man rather than a theorist — 
formed in the schools of the world^ rather than in the 
schools of philosophy — a body inured to labor^ a mind 
prompt to decide — good common sense^ rather than phy- 
sical acumen— better at resolving a case of conscience^ than 
a problem in Euchd. 

Unite these substantial and varied qualifications to a 
nervous temperament and a stirring and dramatic elo- 
quence^ and you have made Cookman ! 

Referring again to the sentiments of the honorable and 
distinguished jurist^ whose pen ornaments whatever it 
touches^ in regard to the style and themes of Cookman's 
religious and pulpit exercises^ I add; that no meretri- 
cious qualities of eloquence would have won so much 
upon the public mind as did Cookman's. He was hstened 
to by the learned and the unlearned — profoundest states- 
men^ juristS; and orators : and all heard him with solemn 
and increasing respect^ crowding the Hall of Representa- 
tives during his two years of chaplaincy^ in storm and 
sunshine, with large and most attentive audiences. They 
heard him with an interest that never wearied. As large 
a crowd attended the delivery of his last sermon before 
Congress, as any one previous ; and still the unsated mul- 
titude would have longer hung upon the farewell accents 
of that parting sermon. 

In the reading of the hymns and chapters at the com- 
mencement of his services, the power and vividness of his 
mind were discovered, even by the mere stranger. The 
minutest meaning would stand out in new and striking 



THE OCEAN. 



17 



relief. His reading was a commentary^ and the old be- 
came new and startling as he read. His text once 
named^ he descanted upon it with as much vigor and di- 
rectness as the monarch bird shoots from its cloud-capt 
aerie upon its quarry. Disdaining dainty or feeble ap- 
proachesj he seized the subject at once^ and was soon deep 
in its illustration — not so much by argument^ as by his 
unsurpassed power of comparison^ calhng to his aid his 
pecuHar figures of energy and life. 

His themes werC; the mercy of God — the hand-iDriting 
on the ivall — Paul amidst the philosophical Pantheists of 
Athens — human accountability — the launching of the ship 
of deathy and every other striking and prominent topic in 
the whole circle of pastoral divinity^ through the multi- 
tudinous variations of which he was sustained by his own 
sincere convictions of eternal truth — his manner giving 
evidence of his own firm belief in what he preached to 
others. The humble gains^ in a worldly view^ of the work 
of the ministry furnish strong presumptive evidence of 
the deep sincerity of a minister of strong powers of mind^ 
and impressive eloquence. For mental power and thril- 
ling eloquence, there are many fields upon which wealthy 
power, and distinction may be honorably accumulated, at 
a less outlay of study, self-denial, and the heart-weariness 
of moral despondency, than the gospel field of action pre- 
sents. 

I approach a crisis in my theme, from which I would 
most gladly have been spared. 

The great American heart was throbbing with deep 
pulsations of joy. Thousands, as far as the eye could 
fathom the distance, were crowding into the Capitol. A 
President of seventeen millions of people, invoking the 
mantle of Washington to fall upon him, was about to 
ascend the elective throne of freemen, to execute the pub- 
3 



18 



A VOICE FROM 



lie will. Nor came he unattended with banner^ pennon^ 
shout^ and song^ borne along by^ and swelling up from 
millions. 

The steamship President^ in the harbor of New-York^ 
had her signals of departure for the shores of Europe 
fluttering in the breeze. Alas ! at the end of one short 
month^ where were both ? 

At the end of one short month^ the pilot of the nation 
was smitten at the helm of the ship of state. His nerve- 
less hand no longer had power over the rudder: it was 
cold in death ! Sorrow mantled every shroud in sable« 
The sails flapped heavily against the yards and masts^ 
and wooed no breeze of delight^ cheerily dancing over 
the dark waters. The dirge was the only melancholy 
music that wailed to the listening sea ! 

Where was the steamship President ? As a sea-bird^ 
whose track upon the shore the shifting sands obhterate^ 
she had gone forth^ and left no track upon the waters. 
Her proud form had vanished in the blue distance^ from 
the eyes of one continent — her stripes and stars had not 
emerged from the ocean^ upon another ! 

Let me not anticipate. In the midst of this stir^ the 
immensity of this popular gathering — the lamented Cook- 
man rose here^ and stood where I now stand^ to preach 
his last sermon to the twenty-fifth Congress^ the day 
before its adjournment. 

The words of his text were : 

Jlnd I saw a great white throne^ and Him that set on it, 
from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and 
there was found no place for them. A7id I saw the dead, 
small and great , stand before God ; and the hooks were 
opened ; and another hook was opened, which is the hook 
of life; and the dead loere judged out of those things 
which were written in the hooks, according to their works. 



TOE OCEAN. 



19 



Jlnd the sea gave up the dead which were in it ; and death 
and hell delivered up the dead which were in them ; and 
they were judged^ every man^ according to their works. 
What a theme for his last ! 

At the close of his sermon, he hufnbly thanked God^ 
and poured forth his gratitude for the respect which had 
been paid to the gospel^ by the attendance in this hall of 
so many distinguished strangers. He propounded to each 
of his hearerS; for the last time^ questions of serious im- 
port: 

" Traveller to eternity ! whither goest thou ? Art thou 
in the pursuit of science ? Art thou in the pursuit of 
fame ? Art thou in the pursuit of happiness 1 An in- 
crease of knowledge will give thee no increase of happi- 
ness ! The foundation of the column of fame is the 
earth — that earth which will one day reel to and fro Hke 
a drunken man, and pass away forever. Seeker for hap- 
piness in the bowers of pleasure ! I tell you there is a 
serpent there which will sting you to death. 

The last words of his which ever rung through this 
hall, and reverberated back from its arching dome, were : 
" Perhaps it is the last time that I shall ever address you, 
or that we shall ever meet upon the earth. I go to my 
native land to receive the blessings of an aged father, and 
to drop a tear upon the grave of a sainted mother*'' 

The sweet echo of a sentiment so fihal and tender 
lingered a moment amidst the architraves of these sur- 
rounding columns — then rose, and mingled with the 
symphonies of the better land ! 

I pass hastily by, with averted face, his farewell scene 
with his dear, accomplished, and affectionate family. My 
hand trembles too much to lift the rosy veil from love's 
holiest shrine of privacy and purity. The last long kiss 
was the mingling of soul with ^oul — no bliss on earth be- 



20 



A VOICE FROM 



yond — all happiness on earthy except the pardoning love 
of Jesus^ exceeding ! 
The ship I the ship ! 

The bustle and hurrying to and fro of a departure on 
a sea voyage to a distant land^ leave much for solemn re- 
flection when once launched upon the great deep^ sur- 
rounded by an ocean solitude — a wide waste of waters. 

Then come back the farewells again^ and we feed upon 
them — all bitter or sweet as they may be— as memory's 
chosen food^ eaten in secret^ in the dear sacrament of 
parted love. These are the pearls of soul which the mind- 
ful and affectionate voyager garners more choicely than 
the gold and the bills of exchange^ or letters of credit^ so 
needful to him in another country. Rich 1 rich in these 
jewels of the hearty went forth Cookman on his last 
voyage. 

Not thrust out from the glorious land Columbus dis- 
covered was he — a fugitive from a country sacred to 
freedom's holiest cause ; but he went^ with all the wealth 
of his fine intellect^ his high consideration among the mag- 
nates of the land^ and the priceless love of the angel of 
his bosom — a love that sprang up in Albion's sea-girt 
isle^ but ripened to its clustering and abundant richness 
beneath brighter skies and under more ardent suns. 

Amidst huzza^ and shout^ and the waving of a thou- 
sand signals of affection^ the steamship weighs her 
anchor ! 

I see the gallant bark^ in her majestic course^ dashing 
proudly on^ ploughing up the phosphorescent fires which 
leap and flash from every crested wave ! On— on — over 
the trackless waste^ but as unerringly guided by the power 
of science as though she coursed within a beaten track. 
The last dim shore recedes. Night comes on. A soli- 
tary hght peers through the distant gloom — nearer and 



THE OCEAN. 



21 



nearer. It is the last beacon light that warns the ocean 
traveller from the treacherous reef; now farther and 
farther behind^ and the last work of man on the western 
hemisphere fades forever from the view\ 

What a still; vast solitude ! Immensity is not less com- 
prehensible than the emotions v/hich it excites ! Morn- 
ing again^ and returning nighty lighted up w^ith its myriad 
stars. Night and morning — morning and night — and no 
change ! Though rushing wildly on^ the noble voyager 
seems to stand upon a single point of time — the centre 
of a shoreless illimitable circle I 

Proud as is the movement of a steamship upon the 
ocean-wave^ and as fearlessly as it dashes from her prow 
the feathery spray^ going with the gale^ or holding on 
her way in the wind's eye — roaring forth her voice of 
power over the waves — still is she an object of terror ; 
still is she cradled upon treacherous deeps — holding in 
her own bosom the elements of a more dreadful and vol- 
canic doom — an explosive death — to the fearfulness of 
which the lowest deeps of the Atlantic were as downy 
beds of repose ! 

As the steamer President swept on and on^ the sullen 
icebergs^ gendered in arctic seas^ came down like a 
buoyant fleet of mountains. They lifted their pale^ cold 
peaks into equatorial suns^ and scarcely relented under 
their blaze. Strong chill winds swept over the sound- 
ing seas. Clouds^ inky as nighty lay mountainous in 
heaven. The old seamen knew that a storm was at hand. 
Such voices full oft have moaned over the deep^ and full 
oft to seaman bold have night and storm shut down to- 
gether^ and no morning to him or his gallant bark hath 
ever hfted the veil. 

Nor^ dear ascended Cookman^ can I lift the veil that 
shrouds from mortal eye the mode and circumstance of 



22 



A VOICE FROM 



thy last moment of earth and first of heaven ! Was it an 
awful crash amidst the ice mountains at drear midnight — 
a sudden pkmge "^^with bubbhng groan Was it the 
bursting roar of the explosive forces of steam^ rending 
that strong ship into shapeless splinters^ and driving his 
giant hull downward amidst the Naiad grottoes and coral 
mountains? Was it fire^ waving the red flag of ruin^ 
amidst the fearfulness of gale^, and storm^ and night^, three 
elements combining— wind^ wave^ and flame — to make 
destruction thrice sure? 

All that man J with all his bravery and skill could do^ 
was done. The winding sheet of ocean at once envelops 
hundreds of mortal forms^ and none survive to bring back 
a message from the dead. 

Yet there was time for the devoted and warm-hearted 
•Gookman^ even in the brief moment of his going down^ 
to take a rapid survey of his ministry in this Capitol — of 
the forms of some who sit here now— of his final rewards 
in a better world. So active is the mind in that inevita- 
ble moment— so swift it leaps from continent to continent^ 
from time and its scenes to their consequences in eternity, 
from friend to friend^ from earth to the Lord of Lords and 
King of Kings I 

There was one not forgotten in this brief moment of 
death. It was her he could never forget — whose dear 
image was on his bosom by night and by day — whose 
whispered love was his treasure — whose heart all his 
own. 

Do I violate the unity of my picture of sacred affec- 
tion, when I represent his mind, now roused to the put- 
ting forth of the fullest of its immortal powers, resting 
the last and the tenderest on the wife of his bosom ? No ! 
it is in keeping with sanctified nature ; and stronger than 
the tempest's force, was the rush heavenward of that 



THE OCEAN. 



23 



farewell prayer^ committing the widow and the orphans 
to a better Keeper^ and entailing upon them the everlast- 
ing legacy of a father's faith. 

I cannot^ forgive me^ I cannot look steadily at the be- 
reavement of the lover and the wife. Her sickness of 
hope deferred — her gentle chidings of the post^ that will 
bring no tidings of the President, and of her loved. I 
cannot put into the form of words those dear dreams of 
union, coming in sleep to wile away the sorrows of ab- 
sence — kisses of love, seemingly given from afar, yet 
sweet as the breath of the honey-suckles, redolent of all 
that is fragrant in memory. 

Dear gentle being ! look not tearfully out upon the 
great sea — nor turn pale when the sound of the storm is 
terrible on earth and on water. Chide not the ships, re- 
turning and returning without any tidings of the lost. 
Thy LOVE is at rest ! 

How sweet and untroubled his last sleep ! However 
dark and disconsolate the path of life may seem, there is 
an hour of deep and undisturbed repose at hand when 
the body may sink into a dreamless slumber. Let not 
the imagination be starded, as if his resting place, instead 
of being a bed of down, shall be a bed of gravel, the bo- 
som of the ocean, or the rocky pavement of a tomb. No 
matter where the poor remains of man may be, the repose 
is deep and undisturbed ; the sorrowing bosom heaves no 
more, the tears are dried up in their fountains, the aching 
head is at rest, and the stormy waves of earthly tribula- 
tion unheeded sweep over the place of their graves. Let 
armies or navies engage over the very bosom of the dead^ 
not one of the sleepers hear the stirring triumph, or re- 
spond to the rending shouts of victory. 

How quiet these countless millions slumber in the arms 
of their mother earth, or in the deep sea ! The voice of 



24 



A VOICE FROM 



thunder shall not awaken them; the loud cry of the ele- 
mentS; the wind^ the waves^ nor even the giant tread of 
the earthquake^ shall be able to cause an inquietude in the 
chamber of death, Tiiey shall rest securely through ages ; 
empires shall rise and fall ; the bright millenium shall come 
and pass away ; the last great battle shall be fought ; and 
then a silver voice^ at first scarce heard^ shall rise to tem- 
pest tone^ and penetrate the depths of ocean and the sohd 
earth — for the archangel trumpet shall sound and the 
dead shall rise. 

To a sympathizing and affectionate friend^ Mrs. Cook- 
man recently said : I cannot realize that Mr, Cookman is 
dead. I cannot associate him with the guardiaii spirits 
that gather about our altar and home. I cannot hear his 
voice in the chorus of angels when we sing our morning 
and evening hymn. 

Let not this sweet day-dream of hope and life ever de- 
part. She closed not his dying eyes^ nor kissed cold lips 
that could not kiss back again. She did not see him die^ 
and;, therefore;, the separation is still but absence. And 
when both are in the spirit-world^ it will be seen how sur- 
prisingly near to each other they have been all the while ; 
that it was not distance^ only dull sense that caused the 
separation. 

A voice from the the ocean reaches my ears. It is the 
mandate of the Spirit^, saying unto me^ " Write^ Blessed 
are the dead which die in the Lord from henceforth : Yea^ 
saith the Spirit^, that they may rest from their labors ; and 
their works do follow them.^' 

This voice husheth every fear^ and puts terror itself 
to silence. It lights up the caverns of ocean with rain- 
bows of glory^ and makes the grave of the just^ even 
down in its fathomless deeps^ sweet and peaceful^ and 
holy. 



THE OCEAN. 



25 



No drear^ and strange^ and terrible scenery in my mind, 
invests the place of his sepulchre. Element has returned 
to element^ if not dust to dust. His ocean grave is as 
much rest from his labors^ as if he were in the marble 
tomb^ or beneath the grass and flowers of some quiet vale. 
If the birds do not sing in the coral branches that may 
twine around his grotto^ yet the great hymn of ocean rolls 
far above him — the worship of nature to its Creator. The 
sighing harp of soft winds^ and even the roar and thunder 
of tempest^ would come down to him hke gentle voices^ 
moanings of nature — quiet cradle songs^ to rock the earth- 
wearied to his eternal rest. 

Not his eternal rest ! Oh no ! I have a better chart of 
the sea — a better history of all it contains^ than that. 
Even there he is blessed, having died in the Lord — and 
even there his works of piety and love have followed him 
— but that is not his final home. joiU o, 

The angel^ with the rainbow tiara around his head, 
clothed with a cloudy his face radiant as the sun^ and his 
feet as pillars of fire^ shall descend^ and shall place his 
right foot upon the sea and his left foot on the earthy and 
lifting up his hand to Heaven^ with his lion voice he shall 
swear by Him that liveth forever and ever^ that time shall 
be no longer. Then the sea shall give up its dead. 

Then shall Cookman come forth /beautiful and fresh^ 
as from a baptism in the fountain of immortal youth. No 
trace of tempest^ or terror of the deep^ shall be on his 
brow — no stain of the sea — no pallor of watery death. 

A celestial smile as rich as glory-tinted ocean's sunset 
blush^ shall be upon his features^ showing that he hath 
rested well beneath dreary billows — that the morning of 
the resurrection has found him^ not at the painful post 
of duty^ but ready to enter upon the haven of his re- 
ward. 

4 



26 



A VOICE FROM 



Now his ship has reached the haven. The lost Presi- 
dent comes to light. The mystery of the fated vessel now 
clears up^ and a tenderer love than that of earth irradiates 
the doom that made so many mourners for a while on 
earth. 

Sweet are the uses of adversity, — and sweeter still 
the rewards that follow good works — following man after 
his frail body shall have been stricken down and buried 
beneath an incumbent ocean's waves — following him 
where mortal eye can no longer define his form and give 
him local habitation and a name — following him far up 
the climes of glory^ until^ reaching the summit of reward^ 
he receives the plaudit of well done/' from lips that 
utter in one word the thrilling joys of an eternity of bliss. 

TherC; sainted friend^ hast thou a better blessing than 
that of an aged earthly father^ and thou hast no tear left 
to drop upon the grave of a sainted mother. There thou 
hast found that mother. The grave holds her not. The 
spirit-world is full of thy friends. All^ not now there^ 
are coming — some by one way^ and some by another — but 
every one will be therC; and chiefly him of whom prophet 
and seer foretold — the first fruits of the grave redeemed 
to immortal life. 

Here let me reflect upon the interminable consequences 
of earthly actions — ^how seed; sown in sorrow and tears 
upon earth; springs up in golden exuberance in HeaveU; 
and forms those everlasting bowers under which the re- 
deemed immortals repose. Now Cookman reaps the re- 
wards of his midnight visits in this city to the homes of 
poverty and sickness — ^standing; like a pure and sweet 
angel of mercy^ side by side with the unseen angel of 
death; soothing the pangs inflicted upon poor suffering 
mortality; and ever and anon lifting the dim eye to where 
the cross of Jesus points beyond the valley of the shadow 



THE OCEAN. 



27 



of death. Each tender and sympathizing look — each 
poured out melting prayer — the alms bestowed in secret — 
the mellow voice of consolation uttered in tones of child- 
Hke simplicity^ leaving comfort and peace to many a 
stricken bosom — the solicitous and brother-like advice — 
the sterner reproof^ when the scorner mocked the Author 
of his being — the mighty struggle in prayer for a world's 
salvation— the wrestle of his own mind in hours of beset- 
ment, doubt, and despondency — all have followed him as 
a part of his blessedness in death. How wealthy are they 
who lay up treasures for the world to come ! 

Blessed are the dead which die in the Lordy says the 
voice of the Spirit. What a glorious hope haloes Cook- 
man's resting place ! He was blest in life, blest while 
going down to his ocean grave, and still is he blest ! 
The dead have not to wait for their blessing until their 
dust shall come to life again. While dead they are 
blessed. No intermediate state of somnolency holds the 
spirit in its insensible embrace. The life of the soul 
laughs at the death of the body, and can only be affected 
by the second death, that dread destruction of both soul 
and body in hell. 

That the lamented Cookman was fully prepared for 
death, in precisely the shape in which it met him, would 
appear from expressions, almost prophetic, that dropped 
from his lips when bidding friend after friend farewell — 
now remembered by them, and treasured up as tokens of 
his memory. 

Such expressions of the pure-minded and the good, 
darkly foreshadowing their approaching death, are justly 
ranked among the phenomena of mind, as they never 
seem to be coupled with any special fear or terror, and 
very rarely ever deter from the enterprise in contempla- 
tion. They are deep words of meaning that pass the 



28 



A VOICE FROM 



lips; but the promptings are from that world of spirits 
where the issues of life and death are fully known. 

Rev. Mr. Cookman was under an engagement to preachy 
a few evenings before his embarkation to Europe^ in 
one of the churches of Philadelphia^ once the field of his 
labor. He was not present at the hour of divine service^ 
and another preacher filled the desk. At the commence- 
ment of the sermon Mr. Cookman entered the church. 
At its close he rose in his seat and briefly stated the cause 
of his detention. After a most eloquent description of 
the sea^ on whose faithless bosom he was about to com- 
mit himself; he bade adieu to the church and congrega- 
tion^ and then made use of these remarkable v^^ords : 

And noW; dear brethren and sisters^ farewell ! It is 
likely we may never meet again — more than prohahle that 
the sea-weed will be my shroud^ and the coral rocks my 
pillow." 

As the poet of nature and of England says over one 
of his heroes^ so would I say over the Christian hero : 
Cookman sleeps welV^ The wear and tear of life are 
over. The strong agony of soul^ that pants for the sal- 
vation of otherS; and that grieves over sin as a malady, 
leading the young, the fair, the inestimable, to intermin- 
able woe, presses no more upon his heart. All care is 
over. Probation has ceased. The curtain of eternity 
has fallen upon the first act of his existence — the next 
scene opens in Heaven ! 

Dear ascended friend — at rest now and in glory — thou 
canst not feel again how sharper than a serpent's tooth " 
it is to have a thankless, ungrateful friend, whose words 
of cruelty and cold-frozen formality, rule, discipline, per- 
haps, shall be as goads of thorn, piercing to the quick, 
wounding only for agony's sake, and for the purpose of 
exercising authority over a noble and generous heart. So 



THE OCEAN. 



29 



like some of the theological Neroes^ who would^ for the 
racks^ whips^ and dungeons of the inquisition^ substitute 
the keener tortures of mental suffering ! 

Dear spirit ! Detraction cannot reach thy golden 
bowers of repose. The serpent envy can never creep 
into the flowers of bliss that spring up beneath thy 
winged feet. The frost of scorn shall blight no fruit of 
thine. Thou art at rest^ my brother ! 

Laboring for Christ and for souls on land^ and dying 
at sea^ the monument I would rear to Cookman's memory 
should rest both on land and ocean. Its base should be 
the Christian virtues^ and sweet charity for a corner stone. 
Its shaft should be the Christian graces^ poHshed and re- 
splendent with the oil of sacred eloquence. Its capital 
should be the Christian's reward ; and from its summit 
angels should ascend and descend upon it^ as on Jacob's 
visioned ladder. The inscription should be : Writey 
Blessed are the dead ivhich die in the Lord from hence- 
forth : Yea, saith the Spirit , that they may rest from their 
labors ; and their works do follow them. 

Let me not be thought enthusiastic. I have my war- 
rant for all I shall say of the glory into which our friend 
and brother has ascended. 

" Eye hath not seen^ nor ear heard; neither have enter- 
ed into the heart of man^ the things which God hath pre- 
pared for them that love him." 

Not to those ocean depths and caverns went that bright 
spirit down to remain. There were those at hand to re- 
ceive him; as soon as the poor perishing body^ parted from 
the soul; sank like lead into the deep waters. Perhaps 
the messenger angel may have come in that nautical shape 
so pleasant to his imagination; and in keeping with the 
wide expanse of sea; from which he drew many of his 
brightest figures of holy rhetoric. 



30 



A VOICE FROM 



The chariot of fire and horses of fire bore^ hundreds 
of years ago, one of the emancipated from earth to heaven ; 
why not the ship of glory be commissioned to bear our 
worthy and eloquent brother and friend to a better home 
than the one he sought ? 

Scarce heard amidst the war of elements, the Presi- 
dent is engulphed in the seething waters ! But see ! the 
spirit-ship swings gracefully into the whirlpool, and glides 
upon the torn and frantic ocean. Her sides are burnish- 
ed gold. The water-drops are like pearls upon it. The 
decks are inlaid with precious stones. The tall and taper 
masts are ivory, and the graceful sails, hke wings, woo 
the upper airs of heaven, and make low-toned music, as 
ten thousand wind-harps, melting to ecstasy in summer 
eve zephyrs I 

The commander is He who walked the waters. The 
navigators are beings not of earth. The storm gladdens 
under their eyes of beauty. They hold the winds with 
silken reins. An anchor falls where the President went 
down — the life-boat lowers, and one after another are 
taken on board, serene and unharmed— not pale,, shrink- 
ing and terrified, as the moment before they sank in the 
death struggles of an earthly ship. 

What loud huzza rings through the ship of glory, 
bursting from the crowded shrouds and spars, and echoed 
back from round-tops and gallant mast ? Cookmajv comes, 
he steps on board, greeted by a rejoicing crew — not aliens 
and foreigners to his disembodied spirit. Heavenly music 
rings fore and aft, and cheer succeeds cheer, while the 
ghttering anchor is weighed, and the region of storm and 
death left far in the wake, forever ! 

Voyager of immortality, look not now dubiously out 
ovfer the element on which thy bark of glory floats. It 
grows purer and purer. Not a vapor curls over its placid 



THE OCEAN, 



31 



bosom. It never engendered the storm^ and the heaving 
of its waves are but the pulsations of eternal love. 

Thy voyage hath the speed of thought. A mighty 
headland heaves in sight — a mountain^ vast as creation's 
base^ meets the view — the towers of the new Jerusalem, 
the city of the living God, crown its summit ! Here all 
is calm and wondrous beauty. The glory of all lands 
has flowed to this better land. Here are thousands^ 
thou minister of Jesus, whom thou hast been instrumental 
in fitting for such beatitude. They have come up from 
thy Sabbath schools, from thy church classes, from thy 
altars, surrounded with kneeling penitents, and from thy 
crowded and tearful congregations ! All are here ; and 
that dear and blessed mother, for whom thou hast not a 
tear left— nought left but the long, deep, burning kiss of 
reunion in blessedness ! 

The bark of glory nears that emerald shore. It is al- 
ready in the haven of eternal rest. My eyes ache under 
the pure vision of such beauty. Forms, too glorious for 
the sight of man, crowd, rank after rank and order above 
order, from port to city gate ; and the song of salvation 
rolls up from a multitude which no man can number, say- 
ing, "Blessing and honor, and glory and power, 
be unto him that sitteth upon the throne, and 
UNTO THE Lamb, forever and ever !" 

Dear voyager of time, thou hast reached the haven of 
eternity ! My eyes can no longer follow thee — farewell ! 
I wave my snow-white signal of adieu, wet, indeed, with 
tears, but more of the tears of joy than the tears of sor- 
row ! Farewell! Farewell! 



DIRGE. 



Air — Federal Street.*- 

In. memory of the death of the Rev. George G. Cookman, who was lost 
in the President steamship^ in the year 1841. 

By Rev. J. N. MAFFITT. 

Beneath the sounding ocean wave, 

With sea-weed shroud and coral bed, 
Our friend and brother made his grave, 

And pillowed there his weary head. 

The storm howled madly on the sea, 

The clouds their thunder anthems sang, 
And billows rolling fearfully 

In concert with the whirlwinds rang. 

There was no storm in Cookman's soul ; 

Faith was his anchor, reaching where 
Tempestuous oceans never roll, 

And show no wrecks of navies there. 

Through phosphorescent crest of flame 

He saw by faith upon the deep. 
Him, who to sinking Peter came, 

And hushed the mad wild sea to sleep. 

Faith lighted up the Naiad caves, 

With forms of beauty and delight, 
And rainbows bent beneath the waves 

To gild his grave with hues of light. 

Not there ! not there forever more 

Shall sainted Cookman make his bed; 
The judgment angel's trumpet roar 

Shall force the sea to yield its dead. 

More beautiful than beauty's Q,ueen, 

Born of the fabled ocean foam ; 
Purer than mortal eye hath seen, 

Shall Cookman rise to Heaven, his home. 

His sea-born coral harp shall ring 

With David's highest note of praise, 
And listening angels fold the wing 

To hear redemption's sweetest lays. 

* Sung at the Capitol by the Wesley Chapel choir. 



